


the path you had to come by (which didn't exist before you)

by rubberglue



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberglue/pseuds/rubberglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both had their own paths to take but sometimes, their paths intersected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the path you had to come by (which didn't exist before you)

She didn't free the citadel to become bound by it and so after 201 days, she grabs her gear and a buggy and she's off, roaring across the infinite sands.

_Why are you going?_

_Where will you go?_

_What will you do?_

They all ask her the same questions. She doesn't answer because there are no answers. All she knows is that the citadel isn't home.

She drives for 3 days over dunes and across mud flats. She drives slowly, savouring being alone, the emptiness a balm for the constant crowds and activity that surrounded her before back in the citadel.

She's just defeated an opportunist road bandit, leaving her face down in the salts, her weapons scattered around. It's tempting to take her weapons, but survival is tough enough with weapons. And she still remembers Angharad’s words. She heaves her gun into her buggy and takes off without a backward glance.

It's another 2 days before she sees him. His interceptor is idling near the edge of a cliff and she sees him on the hood, staring into the distance. He must have repaired it since he left the citadel. She walks over. He turns his head, and barely nods, shifting slightly so she can settle on the hood next to him. Her shoulder bumps his. He looks alive and she’s glad.

For a while, they look at the never-ending landscape together and she listens to his steady breaths and thinks that it’s been a while that she’s felt this small measure of peace.

“How’s the Citadel,” he asks, finally, as the sun dips and darkness slowly rolls in.

She thinks of how they opened the citadel to the masses yet still people continued to die. She thinks of how the War Boys have been working to expand the living spaces and yet there is still not enough for all of them. And she thinks of all the time so many have come to her with problems, big and small, staring up at her as if she had all the answers when all she did was drive a war rig. Then she remembers how the people have managed to somehow work out a system for working in the garden and with the water pumps. How so many have found hope. “It’s getting better. How are you?”

He looks at her again, then back at the horizon. “Still searching.”

She nods. She’s still searching too, only she’s not quite sure what she’s searching for. Together, they wait for the sun to finally set.

* * *

It serves him right to let his mind wander, but he does and the next thing he knows, his car – the one that took him weeks to put back together – is being shot at. A glance backwards tells him that he’s being chased, by who, he’s not sure. He slams down on the accelerator and swerves. Best case scenario would be to lose whoever is after him.

It’s not the worst case scenario but a bullet tears through his arm and he swears and yanks at the wheel again, amidst a hail of bullets. Where on earth do they get all this ammunition?

Then the shooting stops as suddenly as it started. He drives on for a while more before stopping and looking back. Smoke rises in the distance and he thinks that the driver must have spent too much time focusing on him and not on the road. He squints and sees another vehicle speeding towards him. He sighs and starts his car again.

The chase goes on for a few minutes until he notices that they are heading towards the mud. He swears again, reaches for his gun and swings his car around, deciding to travel east instead. It isn’t as if there is anywhere he’s going and one direction is as good as another.

He aims a shot at the chasing car but misses.

As he readies for another shot, he thinks he sees a glint of metal on the wheel and he hesitates, letting the car come closer.

It’s her and he realizes that she’s probably the reason the other car crashed. She’s saved him again and his lips quirk at the thought. His arm starts to throb and he tears off a bit of his shirt to wrap around it.

Her car slides to a stop next to his and she steps out. She looks good, healthy although he’s not blind to the tension that lines her face. It can't be easy to run a town. He waits for her to stand next to him. She doesn’t smile but her eyes soften slightly. Then she frowns when she sees the cloth wrapped around his arm.

He nods and works his throat. A grunt leaves him. It’s a greeting and thank you all in one.

This time, she smiles a little, understanding.

He likes that. He likes not having to talk and not having to share. He’s never belonged anywhere, not since he lost his family, but there’s a little feeling of belonging when he stands next to her.

They stand together for some minutes. He listens to her breathing while they stare out at the horizon. They did this the last time they met and sometimes, he wonders if she thinks about the same things he does.

“Here. Take this.” She moves, in that confident, purposeful way of hers, to her vehicle. She leans into it, then emerges with a tank. Water, he presumes.

As he takes the tank from her, their fingers brush. She doesn’t move her fingers and he doesn’t move his either. He looks at her and she doesn’t look away.

That was the thing about being alone. There was no one to touch and no one to touch you.

The moment passes and he steps away and tosses the tank into his car.

“Thank you.” The words push past his throat. “Where are you going?”

She shrugs. She’s still looking for home, he knows and for a moment, he wishes he could give it to her. But he has his own demons to slay so he nods again, and lifts a hand in farewell.

She drives off first and for a moment, he’s tempted to follow her.

Then he puts his car into gear, turns away from her and drives off. He’s never had much to look forward to before, but as he drives into the horizon, he finds himself looking forward to their next moment.

* * *

The next time she leaves the Citadel, it has been 167 days. She takes a motorcycle this time, flying across the scorching sand. She thinks that perhaps she will visit what used to be the Green Place but she turns around before she reaches.

Things at the Citadel are improving but too many people are still expecting her to lead them, to take the place of Immortan Joe. And that scares her. The days are too busy for thoughts but in the nights, she wonders if this is how Immortan Joe started. Some nights, she thought of the fool and what he was up to. Running, she imagined, from whatever it was he was running from. Those nights, she wished she could run too.

There are no attacks this trip and she speeds, enjoying the wind and sand against her face. It stings, but it’s good to feel something aside from the constant anxiety and stress. All she wanted was to save some women and go home and look where that got her.

He’s waiting at the same cliff when she sees him, his car still and him perched on the hood.

When she gets on the hood next to him, he shifts, just enough for her to sit comfortable, but not enough that their bodies don’t touch. It takes a while, but he asks the same question.

“How’s the Citadel?”

This time, she tells him more. Not just about how they’ve managed to divide up the key things that needed doing among the people and how Cheedo has become a surprisingly good negotiator, reestablishing trade with Bullet Farm and Gas Town. She tells him, too, about the War Boys penchant for fighting over the smallest things and the constant raids by those who think that the Citadel is now vulnerable. And she tells him that she doesn’t want to be Immortan Joe.

He slants a look at her, then shakes his head and scoffs.

It’s a sound, meaningless to most, but it is enough to make her feel supported and she leans into his side.

His hand moves slightly and she thinks he is about to touch her, but it falls back to his lap. He does move so he’s leaning into her as much as she’s leaning into him.

The air cools as the sun sets.

* * *

The next time they meet, it isn’t quite a chance meeting in the middle of the wide, open sands. He’s in the Citadel with news of a new group, small but vicious, who he had overheard making noises about attacking the Citadel.

At the entrance, his car is stopped and his name demanded. He swallows but just as he opens his mouth, he hears someone say, it’s the fool. Toast, gun in hand, steps from behind some people and leans against his car, her head at the window.

“Hello stranger.”

She’s in a meeting, they tell him as he’s ushered through the Citadel. He looks around. It’s different. There’s more green, more people and none of them are chained up. There’s chatter and laughter and shouting and he realizes that she left out so much of what was achieved here in their last meeting. He waits outside the meeting room, slumped on a hard chair, his eyes scanning all those who pass.

He must have dozed off because he feels someone nudge his leg. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into her eyes. Her eyebrow lifts and he feels a smile build in him. He’s not sure it reaches his face.

“What brings you here? Water? Food?”

Both are good, he thinks. “News,” he says, his voice rough with lack of use.

She leads him to what he realizes is her room. It’s small and basic, not that he expects any different. There’s a single chair, a table and a bed. The walls are plain, except for a few scraps of paper. He walks to one and leans forward to peer at it. Behind him, he can feel her tense.

It’s a sketch of the wasteland.

He moves to another.

The Green Place.

When he turns to look at her, she shrugs. “It keeps me sane.”

He nods.

One arm on her hip, she narrows her eyes at him. “Have you come to stay?”

He shakes his head even as he pushes away the unexpected desire to say yes that rises in him. Even if he wants to, it’s not something he deserves.

She sits on her bed and gestures to the chair.

He tells her about the new group.

“Thanks. We’ll be prepared.”

He nods again and stands, ready to leave. Her hand lands on his arm.

“Stay. For a while. Have something to eat.”

His eyes drop to where her hand is on him, then they move to her face. She isn’t smiling but her eyes are warm and inviting.

The bed, her touch, her eyes. Desire that he hasn’t felt in years spreads in his stomach. He steps away from her touch and nods yet again.

The food is good, better than anything he’s scrounged up when travelling the wasteland. The company is better. Halfway through, Toast and the Dag join them and he listens to them discuss the Citadel and its future. They try to draw him into conversation but he’s happy to just listen and nod.

“You’re a strange one,” says Toast before she leaves with the Dag.

He’s alone with her again. It’s not a bad thing.

“Good luck,” she says as he gets into his car.

He grunts and she smiles.

* * *

This time, she’s at the cliff edge first so she stops the car and sits on her hood, her gun across her lap. She stares at the expanse of space in front of her and thinks of the possibilities out there. She is still contemplating possibilities when she hears his car.

He growls something – probably a greeting – as he hops onto the hood.

“They chose Toast,” she says without preamble. She can feel his eyes on her and can hear the questions that are in his head. “It’s a good choice.”

“Mmm.”

“I thought it would be good to travel a little. See what else is out there.”

He makes the same noise, the inflection slightly different, a question hidden in the grunt.

“I don’t suppose you want some company.”

Finally, she turns her head to look at him. He’s not looking at her, his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead.

“No promises,” he says after a long silence.

“I don’t need them.” She doesn’t need promises from him. It’s freedom and a lack of responsibilities that she needs. And some company from someone who doesn’t demand anything from her.

“Mmm.”

He reaches out a hand.

She takes it, wrapping her fingers around his rough ones, and they shake. It’s firm and despite his words, there’s a promise in it, only she’s not sure what.

She thinks she might have even seen a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've felt inspired enough to write for a new fandom. I guess in a way I needed closure for this film, and writing this gave me a bit of that.
> 
> Many thanks to sunrayravine who encouraged and discussed this fic with me. It wouldn't have happened without you. Thank you too to dragonlordette for looking through the fic.


End file.
